Dream of a Lifetime

Dream of a Lifetime

Privet Drive was eerily silent that night. A tabby slunk in the bushes and jumped onto the nearest ledge, eyes wild with anticipation. Presently, an elderly gentleman whose shoulders seemed to bear the weight of the world, popped in. Instantly, the cat's ears pricked up, but still remained statuesque.

"Ah, my dear professor," the man, Albus Dumbledore, approached the startled feline. Looking once more at the cat, he found himself staring into the piercing, brown eyes of a woman, Minerva McGonagall.

"How did you know it was me?" she inquired, surprised her deception had not given her anonymity or the upper hand, so to speak.

"You're eyes," the Headmaster replied.

"Pardon?" McGonagall was speechless at the mere notion.

"Cats don't have such expressiveness," he simply explained. "Besides, Minerva, I've worked with you for years now, and I would know your eyes anywhere. They possess a unique quality, especially when you expect answers."

"My goodness!" she attempted to play off his hint as her modesty level grew, leaving her cheeks a rosy tinge. "Is it - is it true? About Lily and James?"

"I'm afraid so, Minerva," the sparkle of Dumbledore's eyes was lost amidst the glow of horrific regret and deep sense of loss.

"What about the boy?" she instantly questioned him further.

"Hagrid will be dropping him by shortly," he responded.

Suddenly, a roaring noise caused McGonagall to jump and whirl around to face it. Albus seemed expecting this event, and smiled a bit. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you, Minerva. Hello, Hagrid!" he called as the giant man climbed off a large motorcycle.

"Good evening, professors," he acknowledged them.

"Did you bring him?" McGonagall seemed anxious to get this over with.

"Of course. Here he is, safe and sound," Hagrid handed the baby over to a hesitant McGonagall. At first, she looked a bit awkward, but relaxed after a moment.

"Why, Minerva, I didn't know you possessed such a natural maternal streak," Dumbledore teased her gently, bringing unexpected tears to her eyes.

"Must we leave him here?" she pleaded. "I've been watching them all day, and they're nothing like us. Please, Albus, let us bring him to his world, our world. Isn't that where he belongs?"

"Yes, Minerva, but I must dissent from you this time," he took her by the shoulders and led her to the doorway. "It's for the best, you'll see," he comforted the professor.

Reluctantly, she knelt to place Harry on the step in the bed Hagrid had provided. Swiftly, she returned to Dumbledore's side. "Thank you, Hagrid, for bringing him," she sniffed faintly.

"Sure thing. Well, best be going now," he waved and sped off into the night.

"Come, Minerva, let's go home," Albus motioned for her to follow. The two friends joined hands and apparated into the night.

Dumbledore's POV:

Everyone is enjoying the merriment. Excellent. Now, the first years should be along any moment. It's been eleven years. Eleven years I've waited for this day. The day Harry Potter rejoins the world he deserves and was born into. Hopefully, Minerva will enjoy this ceremony as much as I am. Goodness knows she's been anticipating this day. It seems like only yesterday I saw her eyes fill with tears, and just as suddenly disappear. When will she learn to let go a bit? Have some fun, a cry, anything. It's her right, and she deserves everything more than anyone I know.

Here they come into the Great Hall. Oh dear, she looks the same stern teacher, as usual. Ah, the Sorting Hat, such a pleasant creature. Hermione Granger, looks intelligent that one. Ron Weasley, yet another from that family. Hope he's not into mischief like Fred and George. Harry Potter, goodness the hat is taking its time, isn't it? Gryffindor: a most excellent choice. Please, Minerva, look at me for a moment. That's it; now let your eyes sparkle in that way you let them. Beautiful! Here she is, arriving at my side, properly taking her seat. Well done, professor, I hear myself say to her. She has the most radiant smile; it lights up her entire being. What's this? She blushes slightly at my words. Since when does she blush? There's a first time for everything I suppose.

McGonagall's POV:

Control yourself, Minerva. Just because you've been waiting for this day to come doesn't mean you can let down. What would Dumbledore think of you? Oh, since when do I care about what he thinks of me? I guess I have always cared for his approval. After all, he's the only person who ever bothers to comment about something I've done. Well, here we go.

Oh goodness, Dumbledore looks disappointed. Probably me again, spoiling his fun. Brooding now, most likely, on the first years. He likes to do that. Harry Potter, I call out. Wow, I've never heard such silence at this school. Now what is Albus staring at? Let's see if I can follow his eyes. They're focused on me now. Don't you dare stare at me, Albus! He sends a nod of approval my way, and I just feel the happiness grow inside me. Good, now he's smiling. Wonder what changed his mood. Well, up to my seat, I suppose. Dumbledore's looking at me again. "Well done, professor," he tells me. I smile at him, but I'm getting embarrassed. Oh gosh, I'm blushing! I never do that! And what's worse is that he's amused by it! Good thing he couldn't see me that night on Privet Drive after he noticed my eyes. Stop thinking about that, Minerva, you're making yourself blush more. Just avert your eyes and eat a little something. Calm down......

Professor McGonagall sat idly at her desk. It had already been such a long day for her and every other teacher. The first day of classes was always the most trying and strenuous thing to deal with. Hardly a student was prepared and ready to learn. Finally, she settled down to write out the next year's schedule.

Suddenly, a zooming flash caught her eye. Startled, McGonagall narrowed her eyes and focused on the object. It was Harry Potter! "Well, I never!" she hurried out the door to pay a visit to Dumbledore.

"Albus!" she hurried into the office, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, Minerva?" he smiled at her excitement.

"I just saw Harry Potter on a broomstick from Madam Hooch's class. I know he's never been on one before, but he managed to catch something in the air. Do you think it would be possible to bend the rule about first years and Quidditch?" her eyes were absolutely radiant, but she calmed herself to wait for the answer.

"I don't see why not," Dumbledore willingly granted her wish. "Fetch him promptly and have him meet Wood," he paused a moment, thinking about his next words. "Minerva?"

"Yes, Albus?" she paused at the door.

"Nothing, never mind," he waved her off, still looking as though he needed to tell her something.

"Alright, thank you," McGonagall hurried off to find Harry.

And thus began Harry's career as a Gryffindor seeker.

"Troll!" Quirrell came tumbling into the Great Hall. All the students panicked and made a dash for the door.

"Silence!" Dumbledore commanded, startling everyone. "Prefects, you shall lead the students to their houses. Teachers, follow me," he marched off as the wands were drawn. "I'm sorry to spoil the fun," he added as they strode cautiously down the corridors.

"No harm done," Professor Flitwick responded cheerfully, or as cheerfully as he could be in that situation.

"Really, Albus, you mustn't blame yourself," McGonagall came up on his right side.

"Well, I hate to put anyone," he glanced over at Minerva, who bit her lip nervously in anticipation for what would follow, "in danger of any sort."

Professor McGonagall looked over and gave a small smile, not really knowing how to respond. After all, no one ever covered her back. It was always her looking out for herself. 'Of course," she rationalized her thoughts, 'who could ever really feel concern for the unapproachable "Ice Queen"?'

"Over there!" Dumbledore pointed down the hall, shattering her thoughts. "He's in there!"

Were they in for a surprise.

It was Sunday, and Dumbledore had called an urgent staff meeting. "Thank you, all, for coming so quickly. I must inform you of a new secret in our school." He paused while the teachers stared at him anxiously. "We are now in possession of the Sorcerer's Stone. It must be kept safe and guarded to the utmost of our abilities. So, I have selected a few teachers to help in this daunting task. I'm very sorry I cannot use everyone in my plan, but I can't fit all of you in. Here is my list: Hagrid, Flitwick, Snape, Sprout, and Professor McGonagall. Thank you, everyone. Now to you five, I want to see you back here in one week," he dismissed the group.

"Albus?" Minerva McGonagall had remained behind, to his surprise.

"Minerva?" he walked over to her.

"Um, I was just wondering, since you only need five, why didn't you ask Quirrell? After all, he specializes in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He would know how to outwit any intruder, wouldn't he?"

"Well, he's afraid of the things in his own class, and that's just textbook information, not the real thing. I don't want him to be unable to finish a task, and that's why I chose five others, including you," he smiled over at her. "Now, is it just my imagination, or do I sense some nervousness on your part?"

"No, you're right, I'm not sure of myself or of what to do. I guess I just need some time," she admitted shyly.

"Well, might I suggest something that takes logic?" the Headmaster attempted to help her a bit. "You possess a great deal of cleverness, and I wouldn't want to see that go to waste on this project," he complimented her.

"Thank you," she turned to leave, and headed back to her study.

One week later, Dumbledore and the recruited teachers reassembled. "Welcome, everyone!" he greeted them excitedly. "I've been anxious to hear what you came up with, so let's begin promptly with Professor Flitwick."

"I've decided to charm hundreds of keys to fly. Only one of them will allow the intruder passage to the next room. To reach the keys, the invader will use a provided broomstick. When the broom is touched, the keys spring into action and fly at the intruder, making it more difficult to find and catch the right key," he explained carefully.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore praised the small man. "Severus?"

"I believe I shall concoct several potions to aid or destroy the person. The intruder will walk in from a doorway and flames will appear on either side. One potion will get the person further, one will allow them to turn back, and the others will be poison, or harmless. To find which potion is needed, the invader will read the riddles on a roll of parchment," Snape spelled out confidently.

"Very good, Severus. Now, Hagrid, which beast shall we be expecting from you?"

"Fluffy, the three-headed dog. It's very vicious and only sleeps at the sound of music," the giant beamed proudly.

"Inspired! Professor Sprout?"

"Devil's Snare. It takes a well-rounded education of Herbology to know how to pass it. The trick is, no light must be present or it will shrivel up. If nothing else deters it, the plant is designed to kill the victim. However, the more panic, the faster it kills," she described the plant.

"Well, I'd hate to be in that situation," Dumbledore laughed and nodded to McGonagall at his right.

"Actually, Albus, it might be simpler to demonstrate. May I use your chess board?" she rose to get it. "I plan on transfiguring a life-size chess board to play out exactly as the game does. The intruder must take the place of one of the pieces before being able to play their way across the board. However, the opposite side will be programmed to know various moves and possess the most knowledge of the game. One false move from the intruder and," she moved a piece on the board, "that happens." The piece she had moved was instantly smashed to bits by the opposing color.

"Another place I would hate to be," the Headmaster remarked and smiled at her. "Considering the levels of difficulty of these obstacles, I propose the following order: Fluffy, Devil's Snare, Charmed Keys, Wizard's Chess, Flames and Potions, and then mine. I plan to hide the stone inside my trial."

"How so?" McGonagall inquired.

"The Mirror of Erised. It will be in the mirror. The only way to retrieve it is to want it but not wish to use it in any way."

"Brilliant!" Sprout piped up.

"Oh yes!" Flitwick nodded. "Could we, us professors, get a look in the mirror as we set up the plot?"

"Of course. None of you want the stone more than anything, I daresay, so you'll see something else."

"Um, Albus," Minerva began nervously. "Can anyone else see what you see?"

"No, of course not. Only you can tell your innermost desires. Let's go now for we haven't much time," Dumbledore motioned for everyone to gather their things and proceed to the third floor.

Naturally, Hagrid was the first one done with his task. After peering into the mirror for a moment he exclaimed, "well, I'll be darned!"

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked, knowing how the man enjoyed sharing his thoughts, ideas, and feelings with anyone who would listen.

"I see myself with a dragon. I always wanted one of those!"

"Interesting," the wizard agreed.

"What do you see, professor?"

"Well," he stepped up to the mirror. "I've looked in here before, eleven years ago was the first time, and it's always remained the same."

"You, not being able to get what you want? That's hardly believable!" Hagrid scoffed at the idea that Dumbledore couldn't acquire his wish.

"Yes, well, it's um...one of a kind...and..." Dumbledore watched the mirror as his dream focused. No one could have ever known what he was thinking at that very moment. The last thing they would guess would be the right thing, and it would definitely shock them. Sometimes, it even frightened him to know his most unfulfilled dream: the love of one certain Minerva McGonagall. After all, she was a fellow teacher and it was hardly prudent to think such things. But now, after finally discovering that was the one wish he had been unconsciously harboring for many years, Dumbledore could hardly stop thinking about her. Eleven years ago, when he had looked into it and saw her, he could hardly believe his eyes since they were such close friends. But, now it made sense to the Headmaster that he needed to love her.

"Ah, I see, a specialty item," Hagrid thought he understood.

"Professor?" Flitwick poked his head in. "I'm ready for your inspection now, sir."

"I think I'll wait until everyone has concluded their task," Albus stated, absentmindedly, not wanting to tear his eyes away from the lovely sight before him. Of course, that was the danger of the mirror. And yet, here she was, Minerva McGonagall, standing to his right, staying close by, and smiling honestly. Everything about the dream was perfect, but that's all it was: a dream.

"Oh, may I look?" Flitwick grew excited as he walked nearer.

"Certainly," Dumbledore stepped aside, relieved that the man had given him a reason to move away, as Professors Snape and Sprout appeared. "I think I'll begin inspections now and see what's keeping Minerva."

Creeping through the enchanted rooms, Dumbledore listened carefully for any sound telling him what McGonagall was doing. Correctly, he assumed she was perfecting her work. He leant up against the wall of the room to watch her elegantly complete the transfigurations. He sighed as he silently wished she would turn and run into his arms, but he knew she would never do that.

"Ah, now that's much better," she noted after watching the towering figures perform their duties. Suddenly, McGonagall whipped around to face Dumbledore. "What are you doing?" she eyed him suspiciously.

"Observing, Minerva, observing," he soothed her fear of being watched too closely. "That is quite a game you've got there."

"Why, thank you, Albus," she smiled. "Have the others already finished?"

"Yes, they're in with the Mirror of Erised now. I must go complete my inspections now. Feel free to take some time with the mirror if you want," he wandered off into Flitwick's area.

"I believe I shall," the Deputy Headmistress quietly spoke to no one but herself.

Softly, she padded through the traps, and finally reached the mirror's room. Thankfully, she discovered everyone had gone. Otherwise, she wouldn't have had the courage to see the thing she most desired. Her inner mind and heart were two things she had successfully tried to avoid over the years, and had blocked since her childhood.

Standing, a lone figure in the world, McGonagall fought to keep her severe composure. Haunting memories resurfaced, and caused her immediate distress. ~ Her intellectual, blunt manner had always made her unpopular with colleagues, peers, and students. It's not like she didn't have feelings, they were buried deep under the rough exterior, which most often discouraged people from looking past the stereotype of her. Growing up exceedingly shy had only lowered her self-esteem to the point of her building a wall around her most powerful emotions. Adding to this burden within her was the numerous rejections, disappointments, and loneliness she had endured over the years. After awhile, people recognized her as the dauntless, fiery woman who easily bested people with her wit and exuded an aura that warded people away. In truth, this was her only way to protect herself from being hurt and facing the deepest torments of her mind. ~

After reliving this bit of her past, McGonagall shook her head as if to clear it of the painful, unwanted memories. "Now, take a quick look. It won't hurt me," she encouraged herself.

Soon enough, something, or rather someone, appeared at her side. "Well," was all she could utter, as the shock rang clear across her normally indecipherable features. Of all things, McGonagall needed a true friend to trust, to love and to love her, to talk with, and to cry on. It seemed the Mirror of Erised had chosen her present companion, Dumbledore. Her vision blurred a bit as he placed a comforting, protective hand on her shoulder. Looking down a moment to stop nervous tears from falling, McGonagall glanced up once more. This time, Dumbledore had gone behind her and wrapped his arms nicely around her to comfort her. "Okay, enough of that!" she hurried off, horrified at the scene before her.

"Harry! You've won the Quidditch Cup! You did it!" Ron and Hermione ran onto the field as Dumbledore presented Oliver Wood with the trophy. Everyone was cheering, and Professor McGonagall smirked at Snape, who looked slightly nauseated. Gryffindor had won the cup after numerous unsuccessful years. Naturally, a celebration ensued late into the night until several teachers appeared to send everyone to their rooms.

The next day, Harry awoke to realize how much of his success was due to the teachers bending the first year rule just for him. A few hours later, the victorious Gryffindor headed happily down the hall searching for Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore.

Coming across the Transfiguration teacher's classroom, Harry was fortunate to find his "sponsors" together. During the past few years, Harry had noticed how much time they spent with each other. Everyone knew they were good friends, and the heads of the schools, so no one bothered to probe their relationship further. Today was different as Harry felt an overwhelming urge to stay put and observe them when not with students. He watched as Dumbledore smiled kindly over at McGonagall as he read over her shoulder. It seemed the somewhat subdued glint in the Headmaster's eyes suggested unexpressed secrets, secrets that McGonagall was not aware of. She simply sat at her desk and wrote while Dumbledore added his thoughts. Suddenly, Harry wondered what Dumbledore saw in the Mirror of Erised. He had a pretty good guess.

"Excuse me, professors?" he entered the classroom, startling them.

"Yes, Harry?" Albus Dumbledore reluctantly glanced up from McGonagall. Harry could tell that he had been focused on her eyes, not her paper.

"Uh," he suddenly felt very intrusive. "I just wanted to thank both of you for allowing me to play Quidditch my first year. Without you, I may not have ever got onto the field," he smiled, wanting to run from them.

"We appreciate the fact that you consider us a part of your successful years here, but it is you who possesses the talent," Professor McGonagall responded in her usual modest manner.

"Thank you, but I'm still grateful you gave me a chance," Harry added. "Well, I've got to go catch up with Ron. See you later," he could hardly stop himself from fleeing in a most rude manner. Turning the corner of the classroom, Harry saw Dumbledore place his hand gently on McGonagall's arm while speaking softly to her. From then on, Harry decided to be more observant when it came to the two of them.

It was the end of Harry's third year, and he had just completed Professor McGonagall's exam. Thankfully, he had been able to pass with decent marks, and happily strode out knowing only Herbology was left. Halfway down the hall, Harry paused and realized that he had left his Herbology book behind. Groaning, he turned to retrieve it, noticing Sibyll Trelawney enter a few moments before he arrived.

"Minerva!" Trelawney breezed into the deserted classroom.

"Hello," McGonagall could barely hide her irritation towards the other woman. "Do you need something?"

"No, but I was just reading the daily tea leaves and stumbled across this one," she held it out for the Deputy Headmistress to examine.

"You must know by now I consider this a waste of time," McGonagall declined from reading the leaf.

"Of course I do, but just look. You might accept this one. Here, I'll read it to you seeing as you have walked away from me," she cheerfully continued.

"Fine, fine," Minerva sighed and listened while filing away some papers.

"It says, 'The Headmaster shall soon gain his true love.'"

"That's fine, Trelawney, but I don't see how this concerns me. If it happens to be about Albus, then I suggest you take it to him," McGonagall grew weary of her constant theories.

"You're so dense, Minerva. I suppose I'll have to spell it out for you, so to speak," she grinned. Harry knew McGonagall wouldn't stand for being called "dense."

"Watch you step, professor," Minerva glared and icily warned her colleague.

"Don't be silly. Anyway, the second one says, 'The Headmaster and Headmistress are destined for each other.'"

"Oh, what utter nonsense! Let me make one thing very clear to you Trelawney," she began in that malicious, contemptuous tone Harry knew better than to challenge. "If you were so intelligent, and could actually read other people's thoughts, you would know Albus and I are strictly friends and colleagues." Slowly, her voice grew more defensive than anything. "Now, I never want to hear another word of this. Ever! If you don't mind, Sibyll, I have work to do."

"All right, but don't tell me you weren't warned when he wins you over," she lightly sauntered out, giggling quietly the whole time.

Then Harry remembered he needed the book.

"And the fourth contender in the Triwizard's Tournament is...Harry Potter," Dumbledore announced, rather puzzled as all eyes focused on him.

"Come with me, please," Professor McGonagall motioned for Harry to join her. After introducing him to the other competitors, she hurried over to the group of teachers.

"Isn't it possible you made a mistake with the age line?" Madame Maxine inquired.

"Yes, even the best of us make errors every once and awhile," Ludo Bagman prodded Dumbledore to concede.

"It's possible," Dumbledore respectfully acquiesced to their assumptions.

"No, it's not," Minerva McGonagall burst into the conversation.

"Come now, be reasonable," Bagman tried to calm her. "No one's perfect."

"But, he checked it with students from Hogwarts! I was standing right there with him," she protested.

"It's all right, Minerva," Dumbledore pulled her back by the shoulders. "I do appreciate the vote of confidence, though," he added while still in hearing range of the others.

"I'm sorry, Albus. I didn't mean to cause a scene," McGonagall bit her lip nervously, looking ready to break down.

"Quite all right, professor. However, we don't want to offend them. So, I'm going to ask one favor of you. Don't let them get to you no matter how overbearing and insistent they become," he squeezed her wrist reassuringly.

"I promise," she looked him firmly in the eyes.

"However, I can't say I disapprove of a display of emotion from you," Albus teased her gently and grinned. When she looked away from him, one thing she never did, he grew concerned. "What's gotten into you lately, Minerva?"

"Trelawney. She comes up with the most absurd ideas, and I don't believe one word of them! But, they are a bit tough on the nerves," she smiled ruefully.

"I'll talk to her about leaving you out of her little theories," the Headmaster promised. "Let's go rejoin our colleagues, shall we?"

"Of course," she agreed and turned to pace off towards them, Dumbledore in stride with her.

It was time for the winter holidays and the Yule Ball had begun. Everyone was able to dress formally without a strict dress code. Variety was encouraged as long as it was appropriate. Unfortunately for the students, there was a tradition in which each of the Triwizard's Tournament's competitors was paired off for one dance. Harry found himself looking at Hermione, who looked very nice and soon enough, they all begun to dance. Each of the eight students breathed a sigh of relief once it had ended, and they could continue causally enjoying each other's company.

Professor McGonagall arrived shortly after the mandatory dance and made her way through to the group of teachers gathered in a corner. Naturally, the first person she approached was her friend, Dumbledore. "Minerva," he greeted her kindly, "you look lovely this evening."

"Thank you," she seemed to shine tonight as the merriment grew. Indeed, her appearance had drastically changed, which may have resulted in her demeanor seeming more relaxed. Instead of the usual modest bun that held up her thick, brown hair, McGonagall had opted to leave it loose. Her long and perfectly groomed hair was naturally falling across her shoulders. It looked lovely as the light caught her auburn highlights, making it shine brightly. Replacing her traditional emerald robes was a sapphire, silk, floor-length gown that accented her long, trim figure. She was a beautiful picture whose ivory complexion and sparkling eyes only added to her femininity and genuine attractiveness. "The students seem to be enjoying themselves," she nodded agreeably.

"Most certainly, and they deserve to," the Headmaster added.

"Hello!" the ever-perky Sibyll Trelawney appeared at Dumbledore's left side. Professor McGonagall glared at Trelawney's amused glance at her and Dumbledore. Over to the side of the room, Harry was observing this exchange with great wonder. It occurred to him that if McGonagall didn't see who he thought she saw in the Mirror of Erised, that she would most certainly see a staff without Trelawney.

"Pleasant evening, isn't it, Sibyll?" Albus acknowledged her presence, keenly aware that she would have been dead if looks could kill.

"Minerva! Have you considered my newest theory about you?" the Divination teacher inquired.

"That nonsense on the tea leaves?" McGonagall laughed coolly.

"Why yes, but I doubt it's nonsense considering where you're standing," she gestured to the puzzled Headmaster.

"I already explained it to you, and, might I add, you're the only one to think such thing! If you'll excuse me, Albus," McGonagall turned her back on Trelawney and stepped several feet away. Harry silently applauded McGonagall because he disliked the Divination teacher very much as well. But not nearly to the extent that McGonagall loathed her and her field of study.

"My, my, a fiery one," Sibyll laughed a bit. "How do you deal with her?"

"Minerva's a bit temperamental, but a very nice person as long as you don't interfere with her personal life," Dumbledore subtly hinted, also a bit put off by the idea he had to "deal with" McGonagall. He truly enjoyed her company. Harry never knew Dumbledore could be so adamant in defending McGonagall, but supposed this was because he silently loved her.

"I don't see the harm in showing her a few tea leaves!" she protested.

"Well, then what did upset her so profoundly?"

"Here," she handed the leaves to the professor. Harry almost burst out laughing at the look on Dumbledore's face; no one could ever look more shocked than him.

"Oh my! I suppose this would do the trick. Professor, I don't think you should show her any more things that may concern her. Besides, we've known each other for years now. It's never going to change," he rejected the possibility Trelawney presented.

"Well, don't tell me you weren't warned," Trelawney huffed and walked off to join the others.

Instantly, Minerva headed back to join Dumbledore. "Albus?" she sounded embarrassed. "You don't believe her, do you?"

"No, I don't. She's hardly ever right, and tends to read things into the daily prophecies that aren't there. Besides, her record stands at two and I told her we'd been friends for years. We aren't planning on changing that anytime," he reassured her.

"That's what I said! She doesn't give up, does she?"

"Unfortunately, no. Now, let's see if we can forget about her for awhile, hmm?" he smiled over at her severe features.

"All right. She's just so imposing," the professor sighed and relaxed a bit, moving a strand of hair back into place.

Glancing over to where the teachers had gathered, Dumbledore laughed. "Look, Minerva, everyone went off to dance. Poor Snape is all by himself."

Even McGonagall had to laugh at the sight. From the wall, Harry snickered along with them, and then resumed watching his primary targets, now joined by Ron and Hermione. Suddenly, Minerva felt Dumbledore take her hand. Ron pretended to be sick, but Hermione warned him to hold still and not draw attention to themselves. Goodness knows what McGonagall would do to them if she suspected they were spying on her. "Shall we?" he inquired and fell silent, hoping Trelawney hadn't alienated his dear friend.

"Why not?" she accepted.

"Excellent!" he led her out onto the floor before carefully pulling her closer for a waltz. "Wonderful music isn't it?"

"It's beautiful. I wish I knew what it was," she commented.

"Winter, one of the Four Seasons Concertos by Antonio Vivaldi. I'll get them for you," he answered distractedly, marveling how graceful she was.

"That would be wonderful," McGonagall smiled, her eyes sparkling with pleasure as he twirled her around. "You know, Albus tonight has been just perfect. I can scarcely remember having a better time."

"Good! Minerva," he looked at her intently a moment before continuing. Ron took this second to roll his eyes. "Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?"

"No, but thank you anyway," she blushed and turned her head to the side, growing a little nervous. Ron and Harry were having fits of laughter at the sight of their most composed teacher completely overwhelmed by the Headmaster. Harry, who had seen this before in McGonagall's classroom, anticipated Dumbledore's next move.

"Look you two, he's going to watch her now. I swear," Harry predicted. Sure enough, Dumbledore studied her profile, memorizing every detail, and thinking how soft it seemed tonight.

After they had finished a dance, Albus dropped a holiday kiss on her cheek. It was enough to send all three of the students into hysteria, and they had to turn away. This was something they hadn't even thought about before. Minerva didn't even think twice about it that evening. Funny though, once she had retired to her chambers, it kept her up all night.

The next week in McGonagall's class, everyone noticed she was in a particularly bad mood. In fact, her room was more silent than usual, if that was at all possible. "Wow, I've never been more afraid for my life than just now!" Ron said after they were safely in the courtyard.

"Yeah, I thought she was going to yell at me, or something," Hermione added, very upset at this notion.

"I wonder what got into her today," Harry sighed, as the trio slouched miserably on a bench.

"Hello," Dumbledore waved cheerfully.

"Hi, Professor Dumbledore," they mumbled glumly.

"Cheer up, you three. What's wrong?"

"Well, Professor McGonagall is in a really bad mood. We're not sure what kind of mood because she seemed angry, but she never yelled at anyone. She just told us to work on our assignment, which is odd because she never gives up class time to do it," Ron informed the Headmaster.

"Yeah, I thought she cry," Hermione chimed in.

"Oh dear. Maybe I ought to have a chat with her," Dumbledore grew very concerned.

"Hey Potter!" Malfoy chucked a paper his way and ran off laughing.

On the cover was a headline by Rita Skeeter. It read: "Heads of Hogwarts Friendly or Very Friendly?". Beside the glaring headline loomed a picture of McGonagall happily waltzing with Dumbledore.

"This would explain it," Harry commented before handing it to Dumbledore.

"Poor Minerva," Dumbledore sadly shook his head at the paper. "She," he gestured to the byline, "ought to be banned from journalism. And this isn't even a tabloid, just a normal newspaper. No wonder she saw it," he swiftly turned and headed into the castle, no doubt to try and calm McGonagall.

"Wow! What an awful person to turn something so average into such a huge ordeal!" Hermione burst out.

"Yeah, even if it is just McGonagall," Ron admitted.

"Come on," Harry cut the conversation short, "or we'll be late for Herbology!" The trio scampered off to the greenhouse.

Professor McGonagall sat alone in her study staring at it. She didn't know why, but she hadn't found the courage to actually read the article. However, she felt a need to read what everyone else was. That way, she figured it, she could at least know about the gossip being told about her. Reluctantly, she picked up the paper and began to read.

Heads of Hogwarts Friendly or Very Friendly?

By: Rita Skeeter

Teachers always maintain professionalism and respect protocol. What a crock! Last week on December 24^th, two highly respected professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came out from behind the masquerade of friendship. Love was the word of the evening and their actions proved it. Surprisingly, these two people were Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, and Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.

I'm happy for them and everything, but they should at least try to hide their relationship. After all, it compromises their integrity. And this isn't the first time the façade has been dropped. If people looked more carefully at them they'd see how often they stare at each other a little too long, exchange numerous knowing smiles, and casually touch each other during the day. And they're always together. Think about it: her classroom, his office, the halls, and she's always on his right side, never anyone else.

Last week's waltz was beautiful as I'm sure the witnesses will agree. Don't they make such an odd couple though? The affectionate man finally won over his true love, a severe, critical, high-strung brunette who is no longer venerable by any stretch of the imagination.

And after Minerva McGonagall retired to her quarters, this reporter knows she didn't sleep, only tossed and turned anxiously. She was probably feeling lonely or missing his touch.

Oh, and one more thing. This reporter knows for a fact that they see each other in the legendary Mirror of Erised. And that glass does not lie.

Infuriated, Minerva immediately tore off that page and threw it in the trash. Storing the rest of the paper (the legitimate part) in her desk, she began to pace. Unfortunately, this did not help to ease her mortification and distress. She hadn't the slightest idea of what to do. After all, this was hardly a typical situation for her, minus Trelawney of course. McGonagall ran a hand through her loose, flowing hair before settling back into the chair.

The Deputy Headmistress propped her head on her hand, and leant her elbow onto the spotless desk in front of her. Finally overwhelmed by her suppressed emotions, silent, agonizing tears slipped down her cheeks. Finding she couldn't control herself any longer or calm down, more tears flowed freely as she let go for a moment.

Dumbledore came up the stairs to her private study and opened his mouth to greet her. Instead, he stood in the doorway, eyes full of shock at her lack of composure, and watched her tears fall, one by one, from her saddened, brown eyes. Instant empathy overcame him, and he silently padded over to her desk. Without making himself known to her, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She knew it was him. No one else would have dared to enter without knocking, let alone attempt to comfort her. Even so, McGonagall turned her head away, knowing she couldn't face him now.

He nodded, realizing how much she hurt because of their friendly moment. Even with this understanding came a pain deep inside him at the knowledge that she, the one person he had always cared about, would shut him out with everyone else. "I'm sorry, Minerva," he stood by he side, unwavering in his presence.

"It's not your fault, it's mine. I wasn't paying attention to the whole scene. I guess I just got caught up in the moment," she whispered before turning to him.

Only then did Dumbledore see in her eyes how completely distraught, overwhelmed, and terrified she really was. Just as suddenly as she had turned to him, she pulled away. "Minerva? Minerva, look at me," he gently pleaded with her.

"No," was all she uttered before standing, moving to the filing cabinet, and sifting through to find the document she needed.

"Please don't refuse me," Albus took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Okay, now listen to me. It is not your fault that this happened. You're allowed to enjoy life without considering the consequences in certain situations, like last week. This was a case with very unexpected results," he tried to soothe her fear of being irresponsible.

"But if I hadn't been so focused on enjoying my time with you, I could have prevented this for the both of us!" she argued.

"The only person who should apologize or feel remorse for their actions is the reporter, Minerva. You deserve time to be natural and not worry about everything at once. I promise you, everything will be fine. You'll see," Dumbledore assured his deputy.

"I believe you," she told him truthfully, but her tears wouldn't stop. "What is wrong with me?" she was horrified at her emotional state.

"Nothing," Albus comforted her. "You have every right to be upset, hurt, and to cry." Cautiously, Dumbledore took her in his arms, not knowing how she would respond. It took awhile, but Minerva slowly grew accustomed to this, and hesitantly brought her arms around his neck. Still in tears, she leant her head onto his shoulder to protect herself from everything but this man.

"You'll make it through just fine, Minerva," the Headmaster stroked her hair and held her securely in his arms.

"Thank you, Albus," she murmured, beginning to regain her composure.

"Anything for you, just let me know," he spoke in her ear softly.

"Maybe," she was growing uncomfortable again. "Maybe you should join the others for supper. It's almost time."

"Oh, right. What about you?" he held her out at arms length to make sure she'd be all right.

"I'm not very hungry. Besides, I think I need to spend the evening alone," she attempted to smile at him.

"Take care of yourself, Minerva. Don't forget, I'm always around," Dumbledore took his leave.

Professor McGonagall stood alone in her study attempting to place her emotions. Everything was rushing through her head as she realized there was no way to describe herself now. Everything was so mixed up, and her stomach felt funny. McGonagall walked off to her quarters, curled up on her bed, and stared at the ceiling. She felt the same as the night of the Yule Ball, and it frightened her since nothing remotely lovely had happened to her that day. At least, that's how she pictured it in her mind. It was going to be another long night.

As the year wore on, more evidence of dark magic was appearing around the school. Everyone was frightened at the prospect of Voldemort returning to power. Even the teachers were beginning to grow wary. The school's atmosphere was becoming gloomy and students were no longer very focused on the lessons.

Minerva McGonagall was the first teacher to get fed up with the lack of participation from the class. So, she went to Dumbledore, wondering about what could happen. "Albus?" she entered the study nervously.

"Minerva?" he looked up, and nodded at the expression on her face. It was one she had worn often since the Yule Ball, and one he wanted more than anything to forget. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, maybe. I don't know if anyone else has noticed this, but everyone seems fearful lately and I can't stand it! None of the students are really listening to what I say and I don't know what to do about it," she sat in the chair to face the Headmaster.

"I agree with you there, but I doubt anything is going to happen soon. There isn't enough evidence that shows actual evil inside the school or anywhere in the rest of the wizarding world. Have you noticed anyone acting unusual or nervous around people?"

"No, but I can't help feeling that something awful is going to happen in the very near future," she replied, commenting about the dark rumors flying through the school.

"There's no way to accurately predict these things, but I wouldn't say anything about your suspicions to anyone else. If the dark magic is strengthening once more, it will be difficult to know who to trust. I don't want you harmed, so keep this quiet, okay?"

"Of course, Albus. Thank you, and I guess I should go now," Minerva leapt up from her chair, everything since the Yule Ball still haunting her a bit.

"All right, but don't let the negative things overwhelm you," Dumbledore instructed her, knowing full well she would worry anyway.

With that, McGonagall retired to her study, unsatisfied with Dumbledore's thoughts. Something was really wrong, her instincts were screaming at her. "Thank goodness nobody knows what I'm thinking, or they'd think I was crazy," she remarked to herself. Settling down to complete some work, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Standing to open it, she heard footsteps inside already. Thinking it was only Dumbledore, she didn't bother to turn around. Out of nowhere, a blinding flash lit the room and a stabbing pang penetrated her back. Instantly unconscious, Minerva collapsed onto the floor.

Sensing McGonagall's sudden agony, Dumbledore apparated to her study. In one moment he was at her side attempting to wake her. "Minerva? Minerva?" he softly touched her cheek. "What happened to you?" he whispered to her.

Gently, the Headmaster took his Headmistress in his arms and carried her down to the hospital wing. "Madam Pomfrey!" Albus called as he entered.

"Yes?" she bustled out, and then gasped at the sight before her. "Oh my gosh! Put her over there," she pointed at a bed in the corner, and then rushed into the storage room to gather supplies.

"Minerva, I'm so sorry," Dumbledore felt rather responsible, thinking he had the power to protect her from anything. Feeling helpless, he sat there holding her slender hand, stroking her hair. Finally, he left her in the care of Madam Pomfrey.

The next morning at breakfast, Dumbledore sighed sadly before rising to his feet. "Students and staff," he waited for silence. "I would like you to note the absence of Professor McGonagall. I'm sorry to say she will not be returning to her duties for an unknown period of time. Yesterday evening, she was attacked by an unknown person. Until she recovers, I will be instructing her classes. Oh, and don't worry, Professor McGonagall always writes out the lesson plans during the first month of school. Thank you," the Headmaster breathed deeply to calm the sadness welling up inside him. Unlike most days, he was the first teacher out the door after the morning meal, bustling down the corridor to see her.

"Ah, Albus," Madam Pomfrey was relieved to see him enter the hospital.

"Hello," he responded, not stopping until he was at McGonagall's bedside. "Have you found a way to cure her?

"Well, see, this wound isn't so simple. There's hardly a wizard alive who is capable of inflicting such great agony. I have no doubt this was the result of dark magic. I'm also afraid, sir, that there is no definite cure. It's a miracle she survived the attack at all. Not many people could have taken it."

"Yes, well, Minerva's a fighter if nothing else," Dumbledore sighed and stared at her pale figure. "It'd be hard to tell she's hurt, wouldn't it? She looks so peaceful here. Does she have a good chance for survival?"

"It's, um, too early to tell, but..." the nurse wasn't sure how to explain the next part.

"Go on," he prodded, willing to hear everything about McGonagall's condition.

"It's kind of like Mr. Potter, sir. An immense force protected him at the time he was cursed; in that case it was love. Now, since she survived the attack, I'd say she has a pretty strong will to live and something to live for. However, this doesn't insure her ultimate survival. She could still die, unless she is fully protected by a force she trusts in and believes with her heart. If that is the case, she has a very nice chance of ending up with only a small scar on her back."

"Thank you, I guess I have a class to teach now. Tell me if her condition changes," Dumbledore looked back at her still form before scurrying off.

It was not until evening that Dumbledore had time to brood on McGonagall's survival and Madam Pomfrey's analogy to Harry. He knew that if she asked, or let him into her mid, there was no doubt that he would love her. Albus was just beginning to grasp how deep his emotions ran for her. After all, it's not everyday he sensed her needs as he had the night before. This was undoubtedly due to their many years teaching together and his careful study of her during their friendship. If only he could guarantee Minerva knew how he cared for her. It pained Dumbledore to think on how her life was balanced on a bond she only might share and understand.

Sadly and too easily, Dumbledore fell into a painful routine as his gloom grew. Every morning was the biggest challenge for him. It was just so hard to get up knowing McGonagall wasn't going to be around to, well, simply be with him. It was his duty to attend the Hogwarts' breakfasts, but he had to force himself to remain there. Knowing this was time to be spent with McGonagall, he needed to flee to her side. After what seemed like centuries, the students were dismissed and sometimes he could spend about ten minutes in the hospital wing. Ten minutes to inform her of school happenings, her classes, and to hold her hand gently while watching over her still, beautiful form. Apparating to his first class was always an obstacle. Once around her, he never wanted to leave her alone, especially since he had no guarantee she would survive. Of course, spending time with the students always cheered him a bit. It had been so long since Dumbledore had taught anyone and was enjoying this "refresher course" immensely. To state the obvious, he returned to his duties as Headmaster at the end of the day. Long, distressing evenings of paperwork and worrying completed his schedule. Falling asleep was also a forced habit as there was always an overwhelming urge to return to McGonagall in her time of need. And then, it all began again, the same stress and limited cheer.

After five weeks of acquiescing to Madam Pomfrey's constant lack of knowledge about McGonagall, the Headmaster decided to gain control of the situation without anyone else knowing it. The only basic factor he hoped to improve was Minerva's stability. The wound had healed over, but she was not waking. The nurse had explained that her outer physical state may return to normal, but the internal damage due to dark magic may be irreparable. Some days were better and she seemed to rebound. But, other days were looming as if death was almost upon her. Exhausted from this emotional ping-pong, Dumbledore realized there was no hope left unless he could somehow get the message through to her. McGonagall obviously needed to be shielded by someone and his love for her grew every day, but she couldn't know.

Ultimately, Albus determined a symbolic approach might fare well with McGonagall's mind, even though she wasn't consciously processing anything. Dumbledore hoped she was still the same clever woman on the subconscious level. Thoughtfully, he conjured a slim, gold ring with emeralds dotting the circumference. Inscribed was a simple, exquisite message meant only for her, and summing up her thoughts on her own life.

Minerva,

Keep fighting.

Dumbledore

The next morning, he discreetly slipped it onto her right hand. "Well, I hope for your sake that this works," Dumbledore murmured to the healing professor. Sadly, thinking to himself he silently added, 'and for mine.' Knowing it was possible to lose her was horrifying and deeply agonizing. With that he kissed her cheek and left.

Over the next few days, Madam Pomfrey noted a definite pattern in the Deputy Headmistress's recovery. There were no longer any bad days, only helpful ones. McGonagall's complexion wasn't so peaked and pale, but fuller and creamy as it had once been. The next day, the nurse happily denoted this improvement to the Headmaster. "She's a real tough one, Dumbledore. It's funny though, because she hasn't had any consistency in her health until a few days ago when she began rallying. I wonder what made the difference for her. Goodness knows I haven't the slightest idea of how her subconscious works, which is most certainly where the strength emanates from," she shook her head and walked away to give Dumbledore a moment alone with McGonagall.

"So, you pulled through, Minerva. I knew you would with a spirit like yours. But, for a while I was so afraid I might lose you. I don't know what I would do without you. Wake up soon so I can see those pretty eyes of your, okay?" Dumbledore smiled down at her before heading off to teach, monumentally happier than he had been the past few weeks.

Later that evening, Dumbledore gratefully wrote to Cornelius Fudge telling him there was no need to replace his current deputy. He assured the Minister of Magic that McGonagall would recover swiftly and be able to return to her duties.

"Professor!" Madam Pomfrey burst into his office, an unusual behavior for her. "She's - she's awake! And she keeps asking to see you!"

"I'll go at once!" Dumbledore's heart soared and he hurriedly descended the spiral staircase, bustled through the corridor, and halted at the hospital door. Here, he calmed himself, not knowing how alert McGonagall actually was, and he didn't want to frighten her. "Minerva?" he quietly pushed the door open and walked in.

"Albus!" her eyes shone at him, a familiar face to help her understand the circumstances was relieving. "It's wonderful to see you!"

"Minerva," he repeated her name and paused as if needing time to make sure she was really there, talking with him. "It's wonderful to see you again. My, my, it's been a long six weeks," he murmured, admiring her smile.

"Six weeks! What happened?" she grew intensely alert and wary.

"Well, I'm sorry to say that your suspicions about the presence of dark magic were indeed correct. That is what hurt you, but I still don't know who knew you were on the lookout for odd behavior," he shifted; very uncomfortable that he may not be able to prevent a second attack on her.

"Okay, but how did you know to come find me? Madam Pomfrey told me that you were the one who brought me here," she explained.

"I'm not really sure. I just knew I had to go to you," he stared at her.

"Maybe we just know each other too well," she laughed a little.

"That's what I was thinking," he agreed completely. "Minerva?"

"Yes?" she was getting uncomfortable again, that tone in his voice was so gentle and warm.

"You'll be fine now," he reassured her, but also seemed to be waiting for her to address a certain subject.

"Um, Albus," she began, reluctantly removing the ring from her finger, and twirling it around to read the message. "Do you-do you want this back? After all, I've pretty much recovered," she asked, secretly hoping to keep it. Somehow, it made her feel special, like she finally had a private secret worth having.

"No, no. What use would it be of to me? Besides, Minerva," he looked straight into her eyes and almost whispered the next phrase. "It was meant for you."

To his relief, and her satisfaction, she smiled and placed it back onto her hand. "Thank you, Albus. This has to be the nicest..." her voice faltered a bit, not knowing quite how to continue with her sentiments. "You know, there will never be anyone like you. You're the most caring person I've ever met. Thanks so much, for everything. No one has ever been so thoughtful towards me," Minerva admitted quietly. "After all," she added bitterly, but also sadly, "no one could ever really care much for the distant Minerva McGonagall, now could they?" Realizing that she had repeated her last thought aloud, she turned her gaze up to the ceiling, cringed slightly, and mentally kicked herself.

"No one, Minerva?" Dumbledore inquired, finally getting a glimpse into her past.

"You don't know, Albus. Most people call me the "Ice Queen." I guess that's all they'll ever think of me."

"But that's not who you really are. I've known you for a long time, and nothing you could do would change my opinion of you. Even my first impression of you wasn't that of someone unapproachable or unfriendly, just someone who preferred to gain honest respect before friendship. I'm glad I never though of you as some others do, or I'd have missed out on the most important relationship I have," he informed her.

"There's no one else I've ever let see all my personality, or most of anyway. I started out a lot differently than I am now, believe it or not. I grew up very shy, and my parents were always so exasperated because I was so nervous around people. That other factor not helping me was how different I was. By the time I was six, I'd already learned to transfigure things and had a definite interest in the way the world operated. You know, the government and stuff like that. I wasn't much for playing with anyone by the time I was eight. I was always the studious, quite, self-conscious one, and really had no interest in what every other girl my age liked. That's why I had alienated myself from my friends by the time I was fifteen. I didn't want to be caught up in things I hated, and they never liked me talking about the things I was interested in. My parents, Albus, were very understanding not unlike yourself. They knew who I was. But, I distanced myself from them, almost unconsciously, but they never knew it because I was a very good actress when I needed to be. I was so intensely private that I couldn't and wouldn't share anything very personal with them, just the superficial things that everyone hears. It seemed to everyone that I had turned into a very outgoing, involved, clever person who had no trouble getting where they wanted in life because of it. I've always been so frightened though! But you already knew that, didn't you? You knew I wasn't like everyone thought," she turned onto her side to gaze intently into his eyes.

"Yes, I knew, but I didn't know why you always acted the way you do. Now I do, and I'm thankful that you never distanced yourself from me. I don't know what I would do without you, Minerva. I've seen all different emotions exuded by you, but not when others are in the room. You tend to hide them until you're alone. I'm sure you've seen me as many things as well, some more favorable than others I'm sure," he added.

"Yes, but not half the awful things you've seen me as! You're a much better person than I, with a better temperament and a more trusting attitude towards people. I'd be surprised if you ever displayed any unfavorable traits," she complimented him.

"My dear Minerva, that's very kind, but I'm sure I've made you uncomfortable with my words, or actions for that matter," he prompted her to think back over their years together.

Closing her eyes in contemplation, the professor looked back on all their years together at Hogwarts. Casual glances or touches were often a bit unnerving for her, the way he secretly smiled at her caused her stomach to flip with anxiety, the way his kiss several months before had made her feel so...different, the ring on her finger with a private message was special and somewhat intimate, and simple gestures that showed he cared for her often overwhelmed her emotionally. None of his friendly actions were anything she was accustomed to. However, she realized how wonderful these moments were. It was as if all the nervous energy she exuded around him during personal moments was natural and a necessary part of their odd relationship. Minerva began to focus on how wonderful Dumbledore had been to her despite what the others though about her. "You know, Albus, sometimes you did make me nervous, but I think that's just me reacting to how rare kind and simple gestures were given to me as I grew up. The personal and professional parts of our friendship balance each other, and that is exactly why it works. I mean, you get to know me doing my job, and

I get to see you the same way. The respect is mutual, I guess," she stopped, and opened her mouth to say more, but was very uncomfortable expressing her thoughts.

"Minerva, you're my closest and most important associate and friend. I respect you, but I trust you as well. And I value everything that defines you," he added to her sentiments.

"Thank you, and I wasn't finished telling you my thoughts. I do trust you, I didn't forget to tell you, I just got caught up with something else. I'll explain in a moment, but I need to get up and move. Would you mind terribly if we went for a quick walk?" she sat up, and waited for him to nod.

"Of course not," he knew how restless she must have been feeling then. As she stood and turned to walk away from him, he noticed something else. "Minerva, do you happen to know what you're wearing?"

"It looks all right to me, but I can't see the back of it. Is there something wrong?" she looked around for a mirror and strode over, marveling at how splendid the motion felt. Spinning to see the back, she gasped at how open the back was. "Why would Madam Pomfrey transfigure my robes into this?"

"She needed it open to monitor how your wound was healing. I guess she just forgot to change it after it healed over. Look, you have a scar right there," he came over and traced the crescent shape right below her shoulder blade.

"Well, that's just perfect," she groaned.

"Don't worry about it. No one will be able to see it once you're dressed normally, and it looks natural anyhow," he reassured her. "Now, would you like time to change?"

"No, I'll just go," she glanced into the mirror once more and sighed, "looking like this."

"Minerva McGonagall, you look lovely," the Headmaster complimented her.

"Thank you," she headed for door where Dumbledore joined her. "Oh, it feels wonderful to be out of bed," the Deputy Headmistress grinned. "I never thought I'd be so happy just standing!" she laughed, and spun around happily before literally running into Professor Snape. "Excuse me, Severus. I didn't see you there. I'm just so glad to be up I got a bit carried away," she apologized.

"Yes, well, it's good to see you back to, uh, normal," Snape mumbled, the shock apparent on his face. With that, he scurried away never looking back.

Professor McGonagall turned back to Dumbledore who was attempting to control his laughter. Reaching for her hand, he pulled the giggling professor into her own classroom. "Did you see the look on his face when he realized it was you? I could just see him rolling his eyes when he approached because he thought it was Sibyll or someone else, but never you!"

"I never saw him more frightened in his life! I wonder if he thought I went crazy," she laughed before calming down to wander her room. "Well, I must admit, I would never go out like this with anyone else no matter the circumstance. I just wouldn't feel comfortable," she informed the Headmaster. "In fact, I wouldn't do a lot of the things we do together with anyone else," she stopped moving to stare at him.

"Yes?" he implored, hoping she wouldn't push him away again. Her thoughts were more important to him than anything.

"Oh, I was just thinking about Trelawney after you mentioned her. I just wish she would leave me alone. She's continually pushed that theory this year, and I've finally reached the point where I carry around all her gossip. It bothers me that now, after so many years of her around here, she suddenly gets interested in the two of us. There's just no sense to it!" she breathed deeply to quell her sudden anger at the Divination teacher.

"It is puzzling that she of all people should care because she watches us every day, and there's nothing unusual about our behavior. But, I don't think it's just Trelawney that you've been worried about, Minerva. That reporter perhaps?"

"Well....yes, but I blame it all on Trelawney because she started the whole story! And then, the reporter just knows a lot more than she should about people's lives. Now that I think about it, I guess she does have a lot to do with the student gossip and whatnot. This whole situation is utterly frustrating, Albus! There's no way to win or even get out of it!" she sighed.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Minerva. You shouldn't have had to deal with this, you deserve better from people," Dumbledore stated gently.

This comment allowed Minerva's thoughts to trail back to her earlier emotions that went unexpressed in the hospital room. "See! There you go again, being so darling to me! Oh, sorry, I didn't mean for it to sound like that. It's just that you are always the one person I can count on whenever I need you. Every time I need help, someone to comfort me whether I want the help or not, or someone to talk with you are always around. Always. I know that I couldn't have survived these past six weeks without you. I know you were with me, don't ask me how I know; I just do. And," she paused to collect her thoughts. "I can never thank you for that. Or for being the only person who cares enough to try to know me," she walked between the rows of desks to be closer to him.

"You don't have to thank me, Minerva. I only came because you're a wonderful friend and I couldn't bear to lose you," he declined her gratitude politely, knowing full well that she didn't know the half of why he had stayed by her side those weeks and all their years together.

"You always know the right thing to say, don't you? It's always just enough to make me lose control of my thoughts. It's always the right thing to..." she broke off as tears threatened to fall from her eyes.

"Don't cry, Minerva," he reached for her hand, and she unhesitatingly grasped it, and unexpectedly stepped into his arms. Guiltily, he held her close and stroked her hair nicely.

"I just don't know what I can say to you," she cried, not being able to finish her earlier sentence.

"That's fine, you don't have to say anything to me. Just calm down," he soothed her.

"I can't calm down. Don't you understand yet? I don't understand what I'm trying to say to you. Albus, look into my eyes and tell me what you see," she drew back and silently pleaded for understanding.

"I see...fear, confusion, and a hint of frustration," he told her.

"Exactly! I can't place my feelings or tell you because I don't understand! And I can't control them," she sobbed, very disoriented with all her emotions hitting her at once.

"I think this experience has been too straining on you, Minerva. Perhaps we shouldn't continue this conversation," he kissed her cheek and held her gently. He was shocked at how uncomposed she was as she held onto him as if her very life depended on it. "Minerva, what is the matter?" Dumbledore embraced her tenderly and rubbed her back.

"Me," she sounded exasperated. "I'm trying to tell you something, but I can't - I can't find the words to tell you!"

"It's all right, I don't need to hear anything from you now," he was completely confused as to what was running through her mind.

"That's the other half of the problem: you. You're kinder to me than anyone I've ever known. I feel that I haven't been so kind to you ever! I'm just really sorry I can't express myself to you."

"I already know that about you. I understand that you are uncomfortable expressing your emotions, so you can't tell people about them. It just takes practice, and you never thought to before. I can see your thoughts without you having to tell me. Like I've said before, you have the most expressive, beautiful eyes of anyone I know," he wiped away her tears and smiled at her.

"You have no idea how that makes me happy," she laughed, still holding him.

"That's all I want to do, Minerva. Do you know how much I only want to see you enjoying life?"

She smiled and nodded. "I think I'm beginning to, and you're doing a marvelous job of it," she was calmed down to her normal state of mind. It was only then that she took a good look at the two of them and realized how closely she was being held, and how desperately she was holding on. While she was thinking about their situation, Dumbledore prepared to take his arms away from her. In truth, McGonagall didn't really want him to let her go. So, she just smiled and didn't resist his protective embrace. "Albus?"

"Yes, my darling professor?"

Minerva smiled sweetly to herself a moment. "I like it when you call me that, but that's not what I was going to say to you. Do you mind terribly if I tell you that you're that best person I'll ever know?"

"Thank you, Minerva. Are you going to be all right now?"

"Well, that depends," she knew it had to be said now to reassure herself.

"On what?"

"If you're going to be there when I need you."

"I promise you that," he responded.

"Then I'll be fine," she laid her head back onto his shoulder and fell silent.

"Good. That's all I needed to hear," he looked over at her, contentedly watching her eyes sparkle. Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her softly. Shortly, he drew away, realizing what he had just done, and hoped she wouldn't be too upset. Intently, he watched her face as she kept her gaze on the floor.

Meeting his eyes conveyed her affection as her lips turned into a secret smile, one he had never seen before. "And that was all I needed," she whispered to him.

Thirty year-old Minerva McGonagall jolted out of her sleep in complete awe of the dream that presented itself to her. For a few moments she laid there simply trying to breathe normally. When the initial shock wore off, she decided to analyze it and began with the parallels to her current life.

Despite the fact that Dumbledore was her friend, it felt odd to McGonagall to dream about love, especially with him. There weren't any feelings that occurred in her when she thought of him; he was just a friend. In her mind there was no such thing as love, at least not for her. Her life experiences had led her to believe there was hardly a person who cared enough to stay around long enough to understand all of her. She never even shared intimate details of her personal life or background with anyone.

Knowing there would be no more sleep for her that night, Minerva slipped an emerald robe over her breezy nightdress and ran a brush through her just-past-the-shoulder brown hair.

Softly treading through the halls, the troubled professor soon came upon her own classroom. 'Perhaps I should get some work finished,' she thought to herself. Almost immediately, though, she realized there was no chance she would be able to focus on it. Plus, it was four in the morning and that was hardly the time for work to interfere with her life.

Suddenly, Minerva had an overwhelming desire to release her growing tension. She knew the only way to do this was dance. It had worked through childhood and through school. Shedding her conservative robe revealed a white, sating nightgown. Thankfully, she had no reason to change into dance clothes because the gown had a loose, flowing skirt that allowed plenty of movement, and was very suitable for dancing.

Settling herself on the carpet by her desk, Minerva smoothly performed the ballet stretches to warm up and practice. From the plies to the arabesques, she knew them all by heart. She was also grateful her flexibility had not been lost over the last twelve years.

After conjuring soft classical music, she flowed with the music happily. Pirouettes, leaps, extensions, and everything else rushed back into her mind, heart, and body. Performing with grace, the woman seemed the epitome of an angel. Bathed in the soft glow of moonlight streaking through the Victorian-styled windows, gliding effortlessly in a pearl gown, reaching to the stars with every movement, serene in her universe, a contented smile graced her lips.

So engrossed was she in her pleasure, she failed to notice a friend in the doorway. "Minerva?" a voice called out, stopping her in panic. "I'm sorry to frighten you, but I couldn't help watching."

She knew the voice immediately. "That's all right, Albus," she scurried around wondering where she had left her robe. "I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk and ended up here."

"I was up and about as well. I didn't know you danced," he added.

"I haven't in a long time, but I really needed to tonight," she smiled demurely and looked away. It was plain to see that she was embarrassed as she slid her arms up to her shoulders in an attempt to hide herself. Scolding herself for not paying attention to where she had discarded the robe, she finally resigned herself to the fact it would have to wait.

"You were beautiful," Dumbledore told her.

"Thank you," she frantically tried to change the subject away from her. "So what are you doing up?"

"Strange dreams," he put simply.

"Really? Me, too. Now I realize I'm not the only one with crazy thoughts," she was relieved that she wasn't alone in her discomfort.

"You know, it's funny, but I knew you would be here," he stared at her intently.

"How?" she thought that a little too coincidental for her liking.

"My dream."

"Mine was, um, disorienting. I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I just decided to release some nervousness. Really, Albus, I'm so nervous about it I could dance all night," she laughed melodically, eyes sparkling, as she realized just how stressed she really was.

"Would you care to?" he extended a hand for her.

"Sure," she allowed herself to be taken into his arms for a waltz. Smiling, she felt herself grow comfortable with the moment and began to enjoy the calming music. As he twirled her around, however, she gasped.

"What is it?" he inquired.

"Winter," she panicked, as she realized her dream was starting to become a reality.

"What?" he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Nothing, never mind," she put her focus back into the dance and easily calmed down.

"Thank you for the dance," the professor smiled into her radiant eyes. "You know, Minerva, you have very beautiful eyes." Still with his hand on her waist, he could feel her back tense again. "I'm sorry, was that too forward of me?"

"No," she drew a deep breath before adjusting to the situation. "It was lovely, thank you." Tilting her head to one side in contemplation, she decided to comment, somewhat surprised at how candid she was being. "You know, I dreamt we danced together."

"So did I," he replied.

Just to make sure their dreams weren't the same, she inquired further. "How old were we?"

"Still students here," he laughed at how they were still there, only now as faculty.

"Really? Well, my dream was in the future, and you were the Headmaster!" she smiled. "So what else happened?" she began thinking about the troll, the Quidditch, and Trelawney in her dream.

"This," he replied and reached to stroke her hair gently. She looked very puzzled, as he wasn't saying anything to further explain himself. Looking into his eyes, she silently wondered what he meant. At first, she thought of the dance, but they had established that had happened. He nodded slowly, and gazed back at her affectionately a moment before leaning in and kissing her nicely.

"Oh," she gasped, shocked at how uncomprehending she had been and, more importantly at her sudden attraction to him.

Seeing a smile grace her lips, Albus bent to embrace her gain. Only now, Minerva responded and slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Each moment slowly, hesitantly grew more passionate as their secret emotions fully surfaced.

Finally, McGonagall took the time to analyze their hasty, impulsive, but nonetheless wonderful actions. "Albus, why do you think this is happening?"

"I don't know," he honestly replied.

"I mean, was this a result of our ironically similar dreams? And, um, are we going to regret this later today?"

"No, on both counts. Yes, we may have been curious to see if our dreams held any truth, but I think we would have dismissed them by now if there was nothing between us," he rationalized the situation.

"I suppose, but it never actually occurred to me, except in the dream," she quietly admitted, embarrassed by her lack of previous self-awareness.

"In all honesty, Minerva, I have always felt a bit different about you than anyone else. I never quite believed myself until tonight when I saw you dancing. You've never exuded more honesty, loveliness, or radiance as then. I could have watched you forever," he conceded.

"Well, I guess there had to be something, I just never thought anything of it. If there wasn't I can guarantee I would not be here right now," she grinned.

"Naturally," Albus looked into he eyes and traced her jaw line.

"Oh, Albus," she murmured and leant to plan a tender kiss on his face, marveling at how perfect she felt. Slowly, she drew away to lean on his shoulder. She sighed contentedly as he held her close. Nothing could have felt more affectionate, protective, or serenely wonderful as now in her mind. "Isn't this funny?" she suddenly looked up at him.

"What?"

"I feel like I've spent my whole life with you, like you've always been around to make me feel special," she smiled.

"You've always captured my attention, but it's only been one hour," he laughed.

"What time is it?" she realized that she had come at four, danced for some time, and now this.

"About six," he informed her.

"Already? Oh dear, I've got to go before everyone wakes up and starts roaming the castle!" she panicked and flew out of his arms. "Imagine someone seeing me in this!" McGonagall gestured to her apparel.

Intently, Albus studied her as she whirled around the room looking for her robe. He noticed her dress for the first time since he arrived. His attention had been elsewhere: on her face, her dancing, and her eyes. The form-fitting satin with its thin straps, elongated v-neck, and low back line only enhanced her natural beauty. Admiringly, he complimented her, "I can't really imagine how others would react, but I can guess it would be varying degrees of shock. However, as it's me speaking to you, I must admit you're incredibly attractive."

"You're a dear, but I can't leave looking like this! Found it!" she stood clutching her emerald cover, and walked over to him, undoubtedly relieved.

"May I?" he asked.

"I'd love it," she turned her back to him. Gently, he placed the robe over her shoulders, and pulled her closer to him. She laughed a minute, and sighed as he dropped a sweet kiss on her neck.

"I'll see you at breakfast then," he pulled away, before starting to leave.

"Of course, but you should come see me during the day sometime," she grinned back at him mischievously. "It'll be our little secret."

"Well, you are a little devil, aren't you? I'm learning all kinds of things today," he teased.

"Did you expect less?"

He just laughed and kissed her again. "Not from you, Minerva."

That said he hurried out of the classroom, knowing they both had to get out soon, or someone was bound to suspect something. Minerva shivered suddenly, feeling very happy, her heart brimming with devotion, and scurried silently back to her chambers.

Form that moment on, the couple's love, loyalty, devotion, friendship, and passion deepened intensely. They were very good at sneaking off for a few private kisses throughout the course of the day. And they were sure never to bring a pattern to their disappearance, not did they arrive together. Sometimes it was her study before or after breakfast, his classroom around noon, his study in the afternoon, and her classroom at any time of the night. There were other places, but they were more risky and less frequented by the two. Their whirlwind affair swiftly turned from one night into one week, one month, one year.

Around two on one morning, Albus unexpectedly arrived outside Minerva's chambers. "Albus? What are you doing here?" she gasped in a hushed voice.

"I had to see you," he whispered and pulled the door closed behind him. "I know we decided not to risk being caught in either of our rooms, but I really had to talk to you."

"Why?" she calmed down a bit.

"There's something I've been meaning to say to you," he nervously admitted. "I need to tell you before it's too late."

"Too late for what?" she grew anxious at his choice of words. Minerva had no idea whether to expect the best or the worst. After all, he had been acting strangely these past few days. It took all her strength to look him in the eye and hide her fear. "Go on, please," she begged, hoping to be released from her impulsive agony.

"Minerva, I have never met anyone as wonderful, intelligent, or as beautiful as you. There will never be anyone like you. Your laugh is bewitching, your eyes mesmerizing, your mind captivating, your grace alluring, your presence full of life and radiance," he paused, unsure of how to continue, as his nervousness grew. "Minerva, I have to tell you this in person, or I'll never forgive myself."

"Please, just tell me," she was almost in tears at how awful she felt.

"I love you," he smiled at her a bit shyly.

Minerva stood there a moment, shocked at his admonition. As it sunk in, her eyes shone with pleasure and she leapt into his arms. Just as suddenly, she started to cry, and he held her and rubbed her back. "Oh, I love you, too," she happily stated.

"I was hoping you..." his words were silenced by her lips covering his own quickly.

"I've never been happier," Minerva sighed. 'I've never felt so wonderful. Of course, I've never met anyone as darling as you, Albus. It's been such a lovely night." She closed her eyes and rested her head on the wall as he planted soft kisses around her neck.

"Minerva?" he looked straight into her eyes. "Promise me one thing. I need to know that you'll always remember how much I love you."

"Oh, I'll never doubt you, Albus. How could I?" she kissed his jaw.

"Even so, I'd like to give you this as a reminder in case we end up separated for something," he produced a gold, circular band covered in emeralds. Inscribed were the words:

Minerva,

Love is for a lifetime.

"Oh, Albus, you didn't have to do this for me. It was so sweet of you though. It's precious, and I'll always wear it, promise," she was overwhelmed with love and joy. "Would you?" she held the ring out for him.

Nodding, he slipped it onto her left hand. Entwining their hands, he slid the other up her arm to stroke her hair. Their private moment was completed with an everlasting bond as their lips met for a gentle embrace.

"Albus?" Minerva whispered between kisses.

"Yes, my darling?" he tightened his arms around her delicate waist.

"Stay with me tonight," she pleaded.

"Are you sure?" he wasn't about to make her uncomfortable or shatter their moment.

"I just need you to hold me," she murmured before leaning back in for another kiss.

"Anything," he took her hand to lead her to the bed. Laying her down, he settled next to her and pulled her close. With his arms fully encompassing her waist, he kissed her once more.

"You'll never know how much I love you," she spoke into his ear before leaning her head to rest on his chest.

"Nor you," he replied leaning to rest his head on her silky hair.

Just like that, the devoted couple drifted off and slept peacefully though the night. Little did they know that the irreplaceable ring would remain on her hand for the rest of their time together. Their mutual trust, affection, loyalty, friendship, and devotion would sustain through a life in which they were never separated, and still manage to preserve its secrecy.